The Price of Duty
by xtheGoldenEaglex
Summary: When the King arranged for her to marry Renly Baratheon, sixth in line to the throne and with a preference for male company, Alysanne Stark never imagined that she would someday wear a crown upon her head. As enemies rise and fall and new ones take their place, Alysanne begins to regret the day she wished she was a queen. Loras/Renly, Robb/Margaery. Eventual Jon/OC.
1. Family Squabbles

**_Author's Note:_** _This idea was buzzing around in my head for a while now after watching the White Queen. Alysanne is based off a few of the women from the War of the Roses, as many of the women from GoT are. Renly is still gay in this fic and I have no intention of making him anything but, although the relationship between him and Alysanne will become quite tender and warm in a friendly way. This story will contain a cousin/cousin relationship later on, and it will be clear when it begins. Hope you like this chapter, and please tell me what you think!_

* * *

 **Family Squabbles**

Alysanne glared at the embroidery in her hands. It was skilfully made – a work of art, if she may say so herself – but it wasn't as good as Sansa's.

As of late, Ally was constantly comparing herself to her younger sister. Perfect, pretty Sansa was going to become queen. She wasn't fool enough to think that Prince Joffrey was going to be a good and kind husband, but she believed that having a crown placed upon her head was payment enough.

Sansa giggled with Jeyne Poole about the crown prince, causing Alysanne to roll her eyes. She should have been the one marrying Prince Joffrey. She was older, and much more regal too. Sansa, though a lady, was too girlish and immature to be queen. Alysanne knew that she would have been the better choice.

Did Joffrey not find her pretty enough? She wasn't ugly, nor unshapely. However, Ally found her neck to be too long and wide, whereas Sansa was the epitome of female perfection and beauty in every way humanly possible.

"Ally?" her youngest sister whispered urgently from the other side of her. Ally moved her head to look at Arya, who glanced around frantically. "Can you help me? Like you used to? Septa Mordane isn't looking... Please, Ally."

She exhaled heavily and looked over her shoulder. Indeed, Septa Mordane was chatting with one of the serving girls. It wasn't proper, and it was deceitful. She was about to refuse, but when she saw Arya's desperate and pleading expression, Ally felt her words turn to ashes in her mouth.

"Alright," she replied, and swapped Arya's needlework with her own. She hastily began to salvage her messy needlework."But let's not make a habit of this, shall we? You're a lady, Arya. You must learn how to sew."

Arya looked ready to argue, but decided against angering her eldest sister. Ally didn't think that she was too frightening when she was angry. Instead of yelling and loosing her cool – as a lady never should – she chose to ignore the person who angered or hurt her. Though it wasn't always easy.

"That's not your work, Alysanne," Sansa observed, scrutinising the piece of material in Ally's hand. "Did you swap with Arya? You know that Septa Mordane won't be happy."

"Then she won't find out unless you tell her," Ally said lowly, a threatening tone in her voice. "Which you won't. Because we're your sisters."

Sansa pursed her lips together in a thin line that made her look like their lady mother. The resemblance between Sansa and Catelyn was uncanny, though Sansa's hair was a few shades lighter and her skin was whiter. Arya had inherited the Stark look, with dark brown hair, grey eyes and a long face. Jeyne Poole would call Arya 'horseface' behind her back, but one look from Ally would always silence the insolent, mean girl.

When Septa Mordane was finished talking with the serving girl, she came over to the girls and inspected their work. Sansa's was met with praise, as always, and Jeyne Poole was given a nod, which she seemed to take offence from.

The septa inspected Ally's work, her eyes narrowed. Ally's heart pumped madly in her chest. What if she told Father? Arya was the bad child, not Ally. She had only ever done as she was told, except for this one thing, which she had done many times. But Father valued familial loyalty above all else. He would understand, wouldn't he?

"Your needlework is messier than usual, Alysanne," the septa commented, handing Ally the piece of cloth. "More concentration is needed."

She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, and shared a thankful, relieved look with Arya. Septa Mordane inspected Arya's work next with surprised, slightly amazed eyes. "Good gods, Arya. You've improved! I never thought I'd see the day." A rare smile came upon her usually stern face as she gave Arya 'her' needlework. "Your father will be delighted to here about his."

What would Septa Mordane think, Ally wondered, when tomorrow Arya's needlework was the exact same as it had been before? It was years since Ally had received actual praise from Septa Mordane. Only mummers required praise, she reminded herself. A lady of the House Stark had no use for it.

Once Septa Mordane had left, Arya turned to her sister and whispered a quiet 'thank you,' to which Ally didn't respond.

* * *

"War was easier than daughters."

 _I haven't caused you any problems_ , Ally was tempted to say, bur stopped herself when she realised that it sounded disrespectful. Proper ladies didn't speak unless spoken to, and proper ladies weren't rude to their fathers, as Sansa had been. Somehow, Sansa managed to twist it so that their father and Arya were the only ones to blame for her wolf's death. Joffrey, of course, was innocent of all crime.

Poor Lady was killed on the road to King's Landing, when Arya's wolf – Nymeria – attacked Joffrey, though in Arya's tale Joffrey was terrorising the boy she had been swordfighting with. Since her wolf had ran away and Cersei Lannister wanted vengeance, Sansa's wolf was executed by their father.

Ally was thankful that they hadn't found her wolf. She had made no effort to hide Joy, having not known why the travelling party was called to the hall, but Joy, luckily, chose that night to go hunting a few miles into the woods.

Sansa resented Arya for being the reason she lost her wolf. And she hated their father for being the one to do the deed.

A heavy sigh escaped her father's lips, tearing Ally from her thoughts. "There is something I must tell you, Alysanne." She looked up from her meal and at the King's Hand. With a small smile on his lips, he laid his hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. "You are to be wed. The King has arranged a marriage for you and desires for it to happen soon."

She would have considered it to be joyous news, had it not been for the smile her father wore. It was a kind smile, as his smiles to those he considered family often were, but it was laced with sympathy. "Who am I to marry, Father?" Ally asked, trying to disguise her worry. Her mind raced with horrible potential husbands.

"The King's brother," he told her. Only one of the Baratheon brothers remained unwed. Ally's worries were soothed. "Lord Renly."

Ally suppressed a smile. She had only spoken with Lord Renly once, and even then the words they exchanged were simple pleasantries, but he seemed kind enough, and definitely charming. Some said that he was identical to a younger King Robert, though not as tall or muscular. Ally thought him to be very handsome, and was delighted with the prospect of marrying him.

"When will the wedding be?" she inquired. A part of her hoped that she could get to know Lord Renly before their wedding, but she knew that many couples only met on their wedding day. At least she knew what Lord Renly looked like.

"In a few days. At most a week," her father answered. Ally's jaw fell slightly, though she quickly closed her mouth and regained her composure. "The King wills it to be in the next week. Your engagement will be announced tonight by the King."

"But why does his Grace want it to happen so soon?" Ally asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "What's the rush?"

"I don't know," her father said quickly. Too quickly for it to be the truth. The sympathetic look in his eyes was sparked again as he gave his daughter a small smile, laced with the very emotion she hated. "You'll be the Lady of Storm's End. One of the most powerful seats in Westeros. That's all that I know."

Ally narrowed her eyes at her father suspiciously before calmly asking, "Father, is there something you're not telling me?" He pursed his lips and frowned. "Has Lord Renly been involved in some sort of scandal?"

"No, sweetheart." Her father stood then, and kissed the crown of Ally's head. "I'll send a seamstress to get you fitted for your wedding gown tomorrow."

She stared after him as he left, tempted to call after him. Marriage was for life; until his life ended or hers. She didn't know what she was getting into by marrying Lord Renly. That secret of his – the one her father was so reluctant to speak of – could be small, barely worth mentioning, or it could be huge and able to ruin her life forever.

* * *

That night at the feast, Ally had difficulty tearing her eyes from Lord Renly, though she tried to be subtle. The King had yet to announce their betrothal, and didn't look as though he was going to any time soon. He was too occupied by drink and the serving girl to think about anything other than the wench's breasts.

Renly was talking to Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers and the youngest son of Mace Tyrell. The King's brother was dressed finely, as always, in a doublet of blue that matched his eyes and was trimmed with gold.

"You seem quite taken with him," Sansa whispered into her ear as she giggled girlishly. Ally rolled her eyes at Sansa's foolishness, but smiled nonetheless. "I can see why, of course. He's _so_ handsome. Not as handsome as my Joffrey, but still..."

In Ally's opinion, Lord Renly was much more handsome than Joffrey. He was a man, whereas Joffrey was a spoilt little boy. Lord Renly wasn't famed for swordfighting, but he looked more of a man than Joffrey could ever wish to be.

All of a sudden, the Knight of Flowers stormed away from Lord Renly, his face red from rage and his features twisted in anger. His glare landed on Ally, looking at her as though she was reason for all of his problems. When she looked back at Lord Renly, she found him looking back at her, seemingly worried, before he ran after Ser Loras.

"What happened?" Ally asked her sister, though she knew that Sansa had as much of a clue as she did. "Why did Ser Loras storm out like that? And why did Lord Renly follow him?"

The courtiers surrounding them began to whisper furiously. One of the ladies, Lady Stokeworth, said to her husband in a louder voice than the others that Renly and Loras were having a 'lover's quarrel.' Some of the other, quieter whispers said similar things.

At this, Ally shared a look with Sansa. Her sister tilted her head to the side and looked at her with such sympathy that it made Ally's stomach churn. She shook her head vehemently. "No. _No._ Renly is not in a relationship with Loras Tyrell. Father would tell me. He wouldn't let me marry someone who likes boys."

"Perhaps Father isn't as noble as we once thought he was, Ally," Sansa said, her expression darkening. "He executed Lady, my innocent little pup, because the King asked him to." Tears filled Sansa's bright blue eyes as she choked on a sob. "Is it so unbelievable that he would lie to you so that you'd marry Renly and keep the King happy?"

She saw her father at the main table chatting to the queen and looking like he'd prefer to be anywhere else. It was every person's duty to make sure that the King was happy, as her father knew very well. But she trusted her father to stand up to the King if her happiness was at stake.

"He wouldn't put my happiness at risk, Sansa," she affirmed sternly, trying to convince herself more than her sister. "The situation was different. Marriage is for life. Once you've said your vows there is no going back."

"Once Father drove his sword through Lady's neck there was no going back," Sansa reminded her sadly, and then scoffed. "Not that you'd understand. You still have your wolf."

Ally huffed, but chose not to anger her sister further. The Great Hall was becoming quite stuffy. It was strange, though, that such a large room could be filled so easily by people.

Lord Renly slipped back into the Hall. King Robert stumbled backwards as he removed his hands from the serving girl and rose his goblet to his brother. "Renly! My brother, soon to be wed!" The Master of Laws' face turned a bright shade of red. He seemed flustered from his talk with Ser Loras. The King drunkenly staggered over to Lord Renly and slapped him on the back. "Lords and ladies, it seems that I have to break all your hearts by announcing the marriage of Lord Renly of the House Baratheon to my Hand's daughter, Lady Alys of the House Stark!"

He got her name wrong. Ally's face became as hot as Renly's as she glanced uncertainly over to her father, unsure of what she was supposed to do. Her father gestured for her to stand, but Ally wasn't sure if he meant to stand or to go over to the King and Renly. Why hadn't they sorted this out before the feast?

Sansa pushed her out of her seat forcefully, and Ally stumbled to stand up straight. The silence that occurred within the next few seconds felt heavy and awkward, and like more than just seconds. Her eyes danced from Lord Renly and the King, to her father, and then to Sansa and Arya before going back to Lord Renly and the King. Was she supposed to do something? To smile? To say how pleased she was about her impending nuptials?

Just as she opened her mouth to spill her empty courtesies, the King's voice boomed loud throughout the Hall. "In a week they'll be wedded and bedded! Looking forward to that, eh, Renly?"

As the King elbowed him good-naturedly, Lord Renly laughed along with the rest of the court. Ally smiled shyly at him, and her stomach leapt with joy when he smiled back.


	2. A Long Way From Home

**A Long Way From Home**

Ally tossed and turned in her bed. Her wedding was to be tomorrow – or today, if it really was so late – and she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. She would be ugliest bride, with circles under her eyes and skin as white as a blanket.

She heard Arya groan from beside her. They shared a bed, while Sansa had her own single bed in the same room. " _Ally_..." she whined sleepily. "I'm trying to sleep."

"I can't sleep," Ally told her, turning around to face her sister. Arya's eyes were shut closed, but she could tell that her sister was awake. "I'm worried about tomorrow, Arya. What if he doesn't like me? What if he doesn't find me attractive?"

Arya huffed. "Of course he'll find you attractive," she said, still half-asleep. "You're not Arya Horseface."

Anger pulsed through Ally when she heard that name. Petty little girls teased Arya with it back in Winterfell. One of those petty little girls was Jeyne Poole. "I thought that it stopped. That nobody calls you that anymore."

"Jeyne still does," Arya said. "When you're not around. She's not stupid enough to say it when you're around."

"That little minx," Ally raged in a hushed tone, since Sansa was still fast asleep. She had been lucky in waking Arya up, but she didn't want to chance waking another hot-headed little sister. "Tomorrow, I'll-"

"Tomorrow is your wedding day," her little sister reminded her, as though Ally could forget. "You'll have no time to sort out Jeyne Poole. Besides, I can fight my own battles now."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arya smiled. "Jon gave me a sword. I called it Needle. And father organised sword lessons for me – well, dancing lessons, I suppose – with a Braavosi who once was the First Sword of Braavos." Ally didn't didn't look impressed. "I'm really good, Ally. Maybe someday you can come along and -"

"It isn't proper," Ally said in a tone that reminded her of their lady mother. She shocked herself with how similar her voice had become. "Arya, I know you love swordfighting and riding horses and warfare, but that is not what ladies are supposed to do."

Her little sister was glaring at her venomously. "And what are we supposed to do? Find a husband, get married, pop out babies and act like a pretty little adornment by our husband's side?" Ally pressed her lips together in a thin line and didn't respond. "That's not me, Ally. And it never will be."

Ally sighed heavily. She would learn to accept Arya how she was, and she was trying to put herself in her younger sister's shoes. "Alright. Just please don't be mad at me. I need you. Now more than ever." She hated making herself vulnerable, but Arya was her sister. She wouldn't tell anyone, nor would she judge her. "I'm so scared, Arya. Father's keeping something from me, I know it. And all the whispers at the feast..."

"You think Lord Renly likes boys?" Arya blurted rather loudly.

She shushed her and nodded pointedly at Sansa's sleeping form, to which Arya responded with a quiet 'oh.' "No. It's a rumour, that's all." Arya wasn't convinced. "He can't, Arya. If he is, then Father would be condemning me to a life of misery. He wouldn't do that to me. Not even for the King."

"I suppose..." Arya said, though she sounded uncertain.

"I am sure of it," Ally asserted firmly, trying convince herself more than anyone else. Her mind began to overflow with other worries, the next more creative than the last. "What if my dress is ripped? Or the King becomes drunk and starts falling all over the place? And the _bedding ceremony_ , Arya! All those lords will be stripping me naked!"

Arya obviously didn't know how to respond. "I'm sure it isn't as bad as you're imagining it to be." Ally raised an eyebrow. "Alright. It's probably worse."

They fell asleep like that. Talking about the following day's events.

* * *

"Ow!" Ally exclaimed as the seamstress poked a needle into her abdomen. For the _sixth time_ that day, and that was excluding the amount of times she prodded her the last day, and the day before that... "Do you mind?"

"Sorry, milady," the seamstress mumbled as Ally huffed. One would think that 'how to not prod your customer' would be one of the first things they taught aspiring seamstresses.

Ally was a bundle of nerves, like any bride on her wedding day. She worried about her dress, the King's behaviour and – most of all – whether or not her husband would like her. She pushed back any thoughts of Renly liking boys, because it was implausible, perhaps even impossible.

Sansa gushed about the dress, saying how she couldn't wait until her wedding day. Her little sister would be even worse than her, Ally decided, and she only hoped to be away at Storm's End on that day. Arya was silent, doing some sort of exercise her dancing teacher told her to. She was standing on her big toe, arms out stretched for balance.

All of a sudden, the door opened. Ally didn't remember inviting anyone else to join them, least of all the queen, though she probably should have out of politeness. Sansa curtsied as Queen Cersei sauntered towards Ally, as did Jeyne Poole, but Arya didn't move.

The dress restricted Ally from any movement, even though the seamstress had stopped working on it to bow to the queen. "I would curtsy, Your Grace. But my dress is quite tight."

Queen Cersei gave her a tight-lipped smile that seemed rather forced. She rubbed Ally's upper arm in what was supposed to be comfort. "It's no matter, sweetling. You must be excited. It's your wedding day, and you're to marry one of the most powerful men in all Seven Kingdoms, who is also the King's brother. We will be sisters, you and I."

She didn't know why the queen was being so nice, when all she had been before was either dismissive or cruel. Ally tried to smile, but it came out just as forced as the queen's. "I look forward to it, Your Grace." The seamstress had went back to work on her dress. "Will you be attending the wedding? It would be an honour to have you there, my queen."

"Of course," the queen replied. Ally knew that she would be. As queen, it was her duty to attend _all_ court gatherings, even if she didn't want to. "You look beautiful, Alysanne. It's a shame such beauty will be wasted on Lord Renly."

"What do you mean?" Ally demanded, her brows furrowing.

The queen feigned shock and shame as she laid a hand on her heart. "Oh, you don't know?" Ally shook her head vigorously, dying for someone to _finally_ tell her. "It's not my place to tell. But don't worry, child. You'll find out soon enough."

Ally gulped as the queen swept out of the room, her red skirts following behind her. She looked towards Sansa for some sort of reassurance, but she only received a pitiful smile. Arya hadn't even listened to the conversation, too wrapped up in standing on her big toe.

"It will be alright, Ally," Sansa assured her, lacing her hand into Ally's and giving it a squeeze. "Everything will be fine."

* * *

Lord Eddard Stark had the misfortune to be seated next to Cersei Lannister. He attempted politeness, and succeeded somewhat, though his attention was set on his eldest daughter and her husband at their table. She was laughing, which was a good sign, and so was Lord Renly. Perhaps they would grow to love each other, even though Renly's preference was for males. Or perhaps they would develop some sort of friendship. Anything was better than hatred.

"I spoke with your daughter today," the queen told him. Ned felt his heart race until he realised that if the queen had told Alysanne the truth, then there might not have been a wedding. "Such a polite, courteous girl. It seems that you have left her in the dark about Lord Renly's... _habits_. You do realise, my lord, that she is going to find out tonight? When Lord Renly looks upon her body with revulsion instead of lust, like most men would?"

"I realise that, Your Grace," Ned replied, the usual coldness laced in his tone. "And I will handle her rage if it comes."

The queen scoffed. " _When_ it comes. Few girls are dutiful enough to forgive such a lie. Especially when coming from a father which they love and trust so much."

"You don't know my daughters," Ned said crustily.

"No, I suppose not," the queen agreed as she glanced towards Alysanne, a rueful smile on her face. "But I know girls. I was one. And when she is a woman with three children and a husband who could never love her, you will be the one she will blame."

Ned frowned as he sensed the queen was speaking from experience. Would Alysanne become her like Cersei Lannister? Bitter, angry and full of hate for her husband? Would she come to hate him too? And if Prince Joffrey was truly as horrible as was rumoured, would Sansa grow to hate him as well?

Robert joined them at the main table then, stumbling from all the alcohol he had consumed that night. "Time for the bedding!" he shouted, and the men cheered.

He saw the fear on Alysanne's face, and smiled encouragingly at her, hoping that he could quell some of her fears. It seemed to work, as her shoulders relaxed and she smiled back at him in thanks. He should have told Robert that there would be no bedding ceremony, in order to save Alysanne some embarrassment. But he had been so preoccupied with fighting Robert about the Targaryen girl, whom Robert wanted to kill because she was with child and a threat to his crown. Ned had been the only person to stand up for the girl, the rest were too scared of Robert's wrath, or too ruthless to even care.

The women carried Renly off as the men carried Alysanne. Pieces of their clothing were left like a trail behind them on the ground. He was surprised to see that Robert wasn't participating in the bedding, though pleasantly so.

"The bedding," Cersei Lannister said, a scowl fixed upon her handsome features. "A joy in any woman's life."

* * *

Once the men had left them in Lord Renly's room to consummate the marriage, Ally found herself admiring her husband's physique as he poured them both some wine. She was self-conscious, as most would be when naked in front of another's eyes. Her nerves rattled her, and Ally had to bite her lip to stop herself from screaming.

"Here," Renly said as he handed her a goblet of red wine. He smiled kindly at her, though his smile seemed nervous.

He poured the contents of his goblet alarmingly quick. Ally followed suit, albeit not as fast. Renly kept smiling at her, but the smile didn't make Ally feel less nervous. Only more so. She put her goblet on the table when she was finished and turned around to Renly, expecting him to say something.

When he caught on, Renly stumbled for something to say. "Shall we..." he gestured to the bed. "Or if you don't want to..."

"No," Ally replied as she shook her head. "It is our duty."

Renly gulped, but nodded. What had he to worry about? It was rumoured that he had slept with numerous women over the years. That he was almost as successful with women as his brother. It took Renly another goblet of wine to muster to courage to walk over to her. She saw a flash of fear in his eyes, and then disgust as he kissed her. The kiss was sloppy and wet, and nothing like how it was in the songs. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that Renly's face was contorted in disgust.

Ally pulled away from him, her eyes wet with tears that she was too stubborn to let fall. "I disgust you," she realised. " _I_ disgust you."

"No," Renly assured her, shaking his head vigorously as he reached to touch her arm. Ally smacked his hand away from her. "It's not you, my lady. Please-"

"Am I not comely enough?" she questioned, folding her arms over her bare breasts. "Is it my body that disgusts you, my lord?"

He continued to shake his head as she spoke, and grabbed her shoulders with his hands to keep her from walking away from him. "It's not _you_ ," he started, studying her face to see if she understood, but Ally was just baffled. "It's _me_."

It took her a few moments to process what Renly had said. Realisation dawned on her. "So it's true," she said, as the pieces slowly came to together in her head. She wiggled out of Renly's grasp. "You like boys." She expected him to deny it, to laugh at her accusation. But he didn't. He only watched her. Ally let out a heavy breath, and sat on the chair closest to her. "I didn't believe them. I didn't entertain the thought for a moment. I thought..." She buried her face in her hands. "How could I have been so _stupid_? It was so obvious!"

Renly sat on the edge of her chair and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You couldn't have. You wanted it not to be true. I am truly sorry, my lady. That you have been cursed for life with a husband who can never love you. But you can find love outside of this marriage. I will not begrudge you that."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Truly?"

He nodded in response. "Truly. But as for tonight, my brother expects there to be blood on the sheets. As proof that we have consummated this marriage."

Ally thought for a moment, and an idea popped into her head. She grabbed the hilt of Renly sword and stood in front of the bed spread. "What are you doing?" Renly asked worriedly as Ally lined the blade of the sword with her wrist. "No, don't. Alysanne!" He raced over to her and took the sword from her. "There's no need for that."

"But you don't want to sleep with me," Ally said. "I _disgust_ you. This way you don't have to take my maidenhead and your brother will think that you did."

Renly raked his fingers through his short, black hair in frustration "We will have to consummate the marriage someday, my lady. To conceive a child. As Lord of Storm's End, I need an heir. I know that you could find a lover and become with child, and it would save us both some discomfort, but it would be dishonest and dishonourable. We would have to lie for the rest of our lives, even to our children."

She sighed heavily. Growing up, she was taught that those who loved people of their own gender were sick and cursed by the gods. She was taught that they were vile and disgusting, and she had believed that. But Renly was living proof that those who would condemn him were wrong. A part of her didn't want him to touch her, because of his affliction. It was how she was raised, how every child in Westeros was raised apart from the Dornish.

But it wasn't fair to judge and condemn Renly because of who he loved. She didn't know if he could control it. She supposed not, as life would have been so much simpler for him if he liked girls instead of boys.

"I don't know what to do," Ally admitted quietly, staring at the floor as though it was the most interesting thing in the world.

He laughed uneasily. "I don't know either."

Ally pulled a nightgown over her naked body. It would be easier for him, she decided, if he didn't see her body. Nobody could have prepared her for this. Her mother told her about lovemaking and the basics of it, but nobody ever told her what to do if her husband liked boys instead of girls.

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to muster some courage. She knew that it wasn't going to be enjoyable for her. She wasn't wet, and she was nervous. But she had to do this. It was her _duty_. Those were her mother's family's words: _Family, Duty, Honour_.

A kiss would have been too intimate, and there was no love between them. Ally didn't think there ever would be. She lowered him onto the bed, ignoring the look of confusion on his face as she climbed on top of him. She couldn't help but think that she should have been the one on the bottom, since the woman usually felt more pain than the man.

"Close your eyes if you have to," Ally said, a hint of a jeer in her tone. "Or look away from me."

Renly nodded without saying a word. Taking another deep breath, Ally grabbed his cock in her hand and stroked it until it was hard enough. Renly groaned, probably imagining that it was a man stroking him, and not his wife.

Slowly, Ally lowered herself down on him, gripping the sheets below Renly and biting her lip until she tasted blood to stop herself from crying out. The men and women on the other side of the door shouted bawdy jokes in on them, which Ally tried to ignore. The pain was excruciating. Her body wasn't ready for entrance, and being on top didn't help either.

The bed sheets were soaked in blood that night. "I'm sorry," Renly told her once they were finished. "I'm sorry that I couldn't give you the pleasure you deserve."

A part of her hated him. She understood that he wasn't attracted to women, but couldn't he have at least _tried_ to make it pleasurable for her? She was the one doing all the work to make sure that he was comfortable.

She didn't want to ruin their marriage so early by hating him, though. "It's alright," she assured him, and mustered a smile. "I'm okay. Go to sleep."

He smiled back at her before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. That night, Ally was wide awake, plagued by thoughts of her future. Once she was sure that Renly was asleep and everyone outside was gone, Ally sneaked out of the room and into her old one, while ignoring the throbbing pain between her legs. Her two sisters were fast asleep, exhausted from the wedding. Ally tip-toed over to Sansa and shook her awake.

"Sansa," she whispered furiously. " _Sansa_."

Sansa's eyes slowly opened. If it had been about anything else, Ally probably would have went to Arya, but her youngest sister was too young to understand this. "Ally? What is it, why are you here? You're supposed to be with Lord Renly." A lump formed in Ally's throat as tears gathered in her bright blue ears. Sansa propped herself up in her bed, seeming alarmed. "Did Lord Renly hurt you? Ally, please speak to me."

She shook her head. "He didn't hurt me on purpose. It's just..." A sob escaped her lips without her permission, and soon enough she was engulfed with them, tears pouring from her eyes. "You were right, Sansa. Everyone was right. Renly doesn't like girls, he likes boys!"

A look of utter sympathy was etched on Sansa's face. "I didn't want to be right," she admitted, and moved over slightly. "Come here. You must be cold."

She didn't go back to Lord Renly's room. Choosing instead to speak with her sister until they both fell asleep.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Hope you guys liked the chapter The pace of this story will be pretty quick, because I don't want this fic ending up to be 100 chapters long, and it will break away from canon within the next few chapters. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed and favourited! It means a lot._


	3. Nothing but Blood

**Nothing but Blood**

It had been a month since her wedding, and since that dreadful night Renly had not made a move to bed her.

Alysanne was glad for it, wanting nothing more than to not relive that horrible experience. As husband and wife, they were obligated to share a bed, but Renly stayed on his side while Ally stayed on hers. There was no love in their relationship, and Ally knew that there never would be, but she was beginning to enjoy Renly's company. He was a kind man – funny and talkative. In the past month they had become friends, if nothing else.

Two weeks after her wedding, Robb had written to her and congratulated her on her nuptials, expressing regret that he could not have been there. There was no mention of her mother in the letter, and Ally hadn't received any word from her mother in months. Perhaps she was busy with Bran and Rickon, and helping Robb with governing the North. No matter what the reason was, Ally still felt sad that her mother hadn't sent a raven.

Her new handmaiden, Lissa, was lacing her dress at the front when suddenly her eyes widened. "What is it?" Ally asked the girl. She was terribly timid and shy, annoyingly so. "Lissa?"

"The dress won't close," her handmaiden said with a girlish giggle. Ally furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, unsure of what she meant. Upon noticing her mistress' bewilderment, Lissa giggled again. "I think you're with child, my lady. Lord Renly will be delighted!"

Her jaw dropped as she stepped away from the girl. It wasn't possible. They had only shared a bed once – on their wedding night – and Ally would hate for a child to be born out of such a loveless coupling. But the signs were there. Her breasts had grown larger and more tender, and her hips had grown wider. She hadn't bled since two weeks before her wedding, and many of her mornings were spent doubling over a chamber pot.

Gingerly, Ally placed a hand on her flat stomach. She had always wanted to be a mother, and she loved children. A small smile grew upon her face as she realised there was a child – her little baby boy or girl – growing inside of her. Renly would be pleased. He wanted children too, and now he wouldn't have to lie with her for months.

"I'm going to have a baby," she said breathlessly, tightening her grip on her stomach. "I'm going to be a mother."

* * *

That night, Renly was the happiest he had ever been.

"You're sure?" he asked, to which Ally nodded fervently, a large, happy smile etched on her face. "Have you seen a maester?"

"I have. Grand Maester Pycelle confirmed it." She shuddered involuntarily as she thought of how the man's hands strayed to places where they oughtn't have been. If she was to suspect another pregnancy in the near future, she most certainly would not consult him. "We're going to have a baby! Aren't you happy?"

He nodded his head, eyes set upon her stomach where his child was growing inside her. He adored children, and the thought of being a father had always appealed to him. A part of him was relieved that Alysanne had become with child so easily – he did not want to go through such an awkward experience ever again, and he knew that it was worse for her. The next time would be better, he decided. He would not close his eyes, nor would he ignore her pleasure.

All of a sudden, he wrapped his arms around his young wife and twirled her around, reveling in her squeal of shock and her giggling. In her belly, she carried the most precious thing to him. Something that only she could give him. And a part of him loved her for it.

"What do you think it will be?" he asked her once she was set on the ground, his hand pressed against her belly in the hope of feeling something – some sort of movement.

"I don't know yet," she replied softly, her hand on top of his. "Its too early to tell. Why? What would you like it to be, my lord?"

He smiled down at her stomach, wonder shining from his stormy blue eyes. "I would like a girl, I think. So I could spoil her rotten with jewels and dresses." A heavy sigh came from his lips then. "But a boy is what would be expected of us. An heir for Storm's End."

"We can have more children," she said, her jaw clenching at the memory of their first night. She didn't want to go through that again, but she knew that someday she would have to. It was her duty after all. "We are both young. I think I would like a boy though. It would take away some of the pressure."

"You'll never receive such pressure from me," Renly assured her and she looked up at his warm smile, some of fears being quelled.

* * *

"So there's actually a baby – in there?" Arya questioned, poking Ally's stomach through her dress. Arya was intrigued – and maybe a little frightened, though she would never admit it to anyone – by the idea of a baby, a living human being, inside her big sister. "Doesn't that hurt?"

Ally shook her head and sighed. Dinner had consisted of a million questions from Arya, another million questions from Sansa, and her father's ceaseless attempts at getting her to forgive him. She hadn't spoken to him since her wedding. The guilty look on his face the morning after her wedding was all she needed to know that he knew of Renly's preference, and yet he still allowed her to marry him.

"Now, Arya. I'm sure that your sister is quite tired of all the questions." He gave Ally a warm smile and reached out for her hand before giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ally wanted to forgive him with all her heart. She needed him – now more than ever – but the stubborn side of her forbade her from forgiving him. "Are you doing well, sweetheart? When your mother went through this, she went through all kinds of ailments and issues."

"I am fine," she told him briskly, ripping her hand out of his grip. The wounded look on her father's face made her heart sink. She didn't want to hurt him – he was her father for goodness' sake! – but he had willingly married her to a man who could never love her, and Ally wasn't sure if she could forgive him for that.

"Girls, can you leave me with your sister for a moment?" he said to Arya and Sansa. At first, Arya looked reluctant to move, while Sansa obediently walked off to find Jeyne Poole. It took Lord Stark's stern face to get Arya to leave. Once they were alone, her father let out a tired sigh and turned towards her. "I know that you're angry with me, Alysanne, and I do not blame you. But you must understand that it was the king who ordered your marriage to take place. One does not simply deny the King of Westeros what he wants."

"Did you even fight for me?" Ally asked, hurt and anger laced in her tone as tears pooled in her eyes. She pushed them back quickly. A proper lady never cried in front of people. Her lady mother never did, and Ally wanted to be just as graceful as her mother was. "Did you object to this marriage at all?"

"No," he admitted. He would not lie. He had lied enough to her as it was. "At first, I was going to. But Robert was so adamant, so _determined_ that this marriage take place. My objection would have turned to wind."

"So you didn't even _try_?" She was fuming now, her fists clenched by her sides. "And did you know that Renly preferred men when you agreed? Did you so willingly agree to condemning your eldest daughter to a loveless marriage?"

"Aye, I knew." His voice was solemn. It was clear that he hated himself for what he did, for which Ally was glad. She hoped that the guilt ate him up from the inside. "I am sorry that you have to suffer with this marriage, but we are the king's subjects here, and we must do our duty. Do you think that I wanted to leave your mother and brothers behind to come to this snake pit? No, but it was my duty. Just as marrying Renly was yours."

Ally scoffed, though she reluctantly agreed that he had a point. "It would have been nice to know, rather than to walk into my marriage bed blind." She pushed her chair back and stood. "If you wouldn't mind, Father, I would like to take my leave."

He nodded to her, exhaling a heavy breath, before Alysanne left the room, her skirts following behind her. Of all his daughters, Alysanne had been the easiest to handle. She was dutiful and obedient, and always did as she was told. Her outburst shocked him, but he had also expected it. He had pusher her to her limits – he didn't blame her for lashing out.

* * *

The Hand's Tourney was a lavish event. Renly had ranted to her the night before about how much fun they would have, and wondered if they hosted tourneys in the North. Ally replied saying they did not, but she was very much excited for the day's events.

When the Knight of Flowers – Renly's lover and the man who held his heart – rode out to fight the Mountain, he bestowed a flower to Sansa, which made Ally's little sister blush a bright shade of red. He wasn't looking at Sansa when she thanked him though, and instead he was smirking at Renly. Jealousy filled her as she turned towards him, seeing his lovestruck but envious expression. _Why can he not look at me like that?_

Loras' eyes moved to Ally once he was finishing eyeing up her husband, all of the love they once held vanishing and turning into blatant hatred. What made him hate her so was beyond Ally. She tried to ignore the feeling in her stomach as he rode away, but the look Ser Loras had given her made her upset and uneasy.

The Knight of Flowers unhorsed the Mountain, much to Ally's surprise and – though she dared not say it – disappointment. Gregor Clegane called him a cheat and sought to attack him, but his brother, the Hound, intervened before he could harm Ser Loras.

"STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!" King Robert bellowed, scrambling onto his feet once he decided that the sword fight between the brothers had went on too long and had become too dangerous.

The Hound fell too his knees immediately, barely missing the swipe of his brother's sword. The Mountain tossed his sword to the ground and stalked off in a fit of anger, but not before sending one last glare to the king.

Ally glanced down sheepishly at Renly's arm, still clutching it tightly. He followed her gaze, and once Ally had regained her senses she pulled away from him, a blush finding its way upon her cheeks.

* * *

The night she heard of her father's ambush by Jaime Lannister, she decided to stay in her family's chambers to comfort her younger siblings. Sansa was sobbing as she clutched onto Ally's gown while Arya refused to show that she was upset, but Ally could see through her sister. She was hurting too.

"When can we see him?" Sansa asked, sitting up and composing herself immediately.

"I don't know," she answered.

The Maester had given their father Milk of the Poppy to ease the pain, and he hadn't woken since. Ally placed a hand on the slight bulge of her belly. She felt horribly guilty. The last time she had spoken with her father was the argument. _What if he dies?_ Ally thought, a frown finding its way on her face. _What if he dies and that argument is our last conversation?_

If he woke – no, _when_ he woke – Ally would jump into his arms and promise to never be angry with him again. And she would keep her promise and forgive him. The thought of losing her father made her see sense. Her father had no choice, though she still wished that he had told her of Renly's preferences. But what was done could not be undone, and what was the point in dwelling in her father's mistakes when he could be dead by morning?

"I want to see Father now." Arya's voice ripped Ally from her thoughts. Her little sister had stood and was marching towards the door when Ally jumped up and followed her before grabbing her arm and pulling her back. "What are doing? Let me go _now_!"

"Arya," Ally said softly, and her sister stopped struggling against her. "You can see Father when he wakes, but for now he needs to rest, and so do you."

"I'm worried about him," Arya admitted, staring down at her shoes.

Ally pulled her little sister into her arms in a tight embrace. "I am too. But worrying won't wake him, will it? Come on. Let's go to sleep."

The three of them fell asleep in the double bed with Sansa in the middle. Arya kicked them both in her sleep, but both Ally and Sansa were too tired to wake. Nothing woke them until Ally let out a high-pitched scream.

There was blood between her thighs and on the bed sheets beneath her. _My baby..._ Ally started to panic.

"What is it – oh gods!" Sansa rushed out of the bed and pulled on her nightgown. "Arya, go get Grand Maester Pycelle. I'm going to find Septa Mordane."

A sharp pain struck her in her abdomen, causing Ally to release a loud cry. She gripped the sheets tightly, barely noticing when the Grand Maester and Septa Mordane rushed into the room, followed closely by her husband.

"What's happening?" Renly questioned, only to be shooed out by a frantic Septa Mordane. "What's going on?"

Arya was shooed out as well. She spent her time outside trying to console Lord Renly, but the man just wouldn't stop pacing. Finally when she decided she had enough, she stepped in front of him and pushed him backwards.

"Can you calm down?" she snapped. Renly was visibly taken aback. "Now, sit down and stop pacing. She'll be fine. Ally's always fine."

The loud scream coming from her sister's chambers made Arya second guess her words.

The baby was only three months old. It wasn't ready to leave Ally's womb, the young mother knew that well. She doubled over in pain as another wave hit her. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead and on the back of her neck as Septa Mordane and the Maester bustled around her. Sansa sat by her bedside, holding her hand tightly and singing a calming tune.

Before she could register what was happening, Pycelle had poured the contents of a vial down her throat, and Ally felt the pain leave her as her eyes closed to the world.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** I just want to say thanks to everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed! It makes my day to see those email alerts, and they definitely mean a lot. I hope you guys liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to tell me if you didn't. Constructive criticism is always welcome!_


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